(My manager is in the bathroom pooping when a customer gets the sudden urge to poop. Our bathrooms are one person bathrooms, so the door is locked. The customer gets up and sprints to the bathroom and twists the doorknob so hard it breaks, and the customer barges in and sees my manager on the toilet.)
Manager: “Hi. Welcome to [Shop].”
(A middle-aged lady walks into the store.)
Customer: “Hi, may I have the store’s phone number?”
(I look at my coworker and we share a confused look.)
Me: “May I ask why?”
Customer: “My grandson is in the car and wants to call in an order.”
(In total disbelief, I give her the number and watch her sign it to her grandson through the store window.)
Customer: “Did he call?”
Me: “No, ma’am.”
Customer: “Okay, let me give you his number so you can take his order.”
(Before I can say anything she gives me her grandson’s number so I call but nothing happens.)
Customer: “Well, just walk out to the car and take his order!”
(I went out, took the order, went back and made the sandwich. While she paid for it she commented on how rich she was and how poor we were. Seriously, she told us we were poor and couldn’t afford what she could. She left, leaving no tip. Worst customer ever.)
(We stop at a sub store for lunch. We all place our orders with the assistant, who’s a 15-year-old girl.)
Assistant: “Is yours twelve inch?”
Me: *deadpan* “That’s a bit personal; I didn’t ask your bust size.”
(The assistant turned very red and laughed.)
(My sandwich shop is located in a fairly affluent area of my city, between a well-known coffee shop and a smoothie shop, with whom we are on good terms. On this day, the ice machine has broken. A repairman is scheduled to fix it later in the day, but in the meantime my boss has instructed me to tell all customers about the lack of ice before selling them a drink. So far, none of them have had a problem. I’m serving a woman in her 40s during the middle of an extremely busy lunch rush.)
Me: “Would you like anything else with your sandwich today, ma’am?”
Customer: “Just a large soda, please.”
Me: “Sure thing! Just to let you know, our ice machine is currently not working, but the drinks are still cold. Will that be all right?”
Customer: *looking scandalized* “Excuse me? How am I supposed to get ice, then?”
Me: “Oh, well, some people have gone next door to [Coffee Shop] to get ice. They won’t mind giving you some.”
Customer: “Oh, all right, then.”
Me: “Great! Your total is [price].”
(She pays and then stares at me for several seconds. I smile uncertainly at her.)
Customer: “Well? Where is my ice?”
Me: “Um, you can just take it next door to [Coffee Shop] and—”
Customer: *looking as insulted as can be* “What?! You want me to go all the way over there and get it myself? Are you SERIOUS?” *looks to other customers for validation* “I mean, you call this customer service? YOU run out of ice and expect ME to pay the same price for a drink AND go find my own ice? I mean, honestly!”
(Startled, I look to my manager, who is as shocked by this outburst as I am. He looks at the 15 people still in line, then shrugs and nods, moving forward to take over my register. I grab the woman’s cup and run next door to the coffee shop. The barista fills the cup to the top with ice, and I run it back to the customer, who snatches it out of my hand.)
Customer: “THANK you. Was that so hard?”
(She marched to the soda fountain, dumped out all but two or three ice cubes, and filled her drink to the top.)
(I’m serving a mother and her young son.)
Me: *to son* “What salads would you like on your sub?”
Mother: “Oh, he won’t eat salads. I don’t know why!”
Me: “That’s okay. Would you like any salads on your sub?”
Mother: “Oh, no, I don’t eat salad.”
Me: “…”
